


Business as Usual

by JohnAmendAll



Series: Really Stretching UNIT Dating [1]
Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-12
Updated: 2012-09-12
Packaged: 2017-11-14 03:04:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAmendAll/pseuds/JohnAmendAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor, Jo and UNIT investigate a haunted house. Oh, and the year is 1793.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> > As soon as UNIT comes into the equation, "continuity" loses any vestigial semblance of meaning anyway. I'd rather like to see some stories which **really** stretch UNIT continuity. Having the usual UNIT crew going about their usual business in an 18th century setting without a word of explanation, for example.
> 
>  Daniel Gooley, on [rec.arts.drwho](http://groups.google.co.uk/group/rec.arts.drwho/msg/14f38d2df7591f42?hl=en/d32f251d5a3933), 11 January 1999.
> 
> So, by the magic of UNIT dating, this story is set in 1793.

The Doctor barely looked up from his work as Jo breathlessly hurried into his improvised laboratory. 

"Morning, Jo," he said, giving perhaps a quarter of his attention to her and the rest to the varnished copper wire he was carefully winding around a wooden core. "Sleep well?" 

"Fine, thanks." Jo looked slightly put out at how little attention her arrival had merited. "What do you think of my clothes?" 

The Doctor glanced briefly at her cotton print dress, muslin scarf, and ruffled petticoat. 

"They look perfectly normal to me," he said, his tone suggesting that he'd have said much the same thing if she'd turned up in plate armour. "Are they new?" 

"Of course they're new! They're the latest thing. Everyone's going to be wearing an outfit like this next year, you'll see. But I'm wearing it _now_." 

Seeing that her conversation had failed to grasp the Doctor's interest, she wandered over to a side table, where a magnifying glass and a week-old copy of the Times lay. She opened the paper, picked up the glass, and peered at the tiny print. 

"Oh, that's dreadful," she presently said. "That poor woman." She waited for the Doctor to ask who she was talking about, and when he didn't, answered anyway. "Charlotte Corday. Having her head cut off like that in front of all those people." She read on. "And that executioner... well, serve him right, that's what I say." 

"Jo, how many times have I told you–" the Doctor began. But before he could rebuke her for her repeated interruptions, the door opened again. This time it admitted the familiar figure of the Brigadier in his red coat and powdered wig. 

"Good morning, Doctor, Miss Grant," he said. 

The Doctor put his coil of wire down on the bench. 

"I can see I might as well give up any hope of getting useful work done today," he said. "What's happened now?" 

"Something a little out of the ordinary." 

"Of course it is, or you wouldn't be dealing with it, would you?" 

The Brigadier cleared his throat. "I must emphasise that this is how it's been described to me, but: We have been asked to investigate a haunted house." 

"Really?" Jo looked up, her eyes wide. "A ghost? A real one?" 

"That's what we have to establish." 

"Is it far from here?" 

"No more than ten miles, perhaps twelve by road. It's at a village called Foxworth." 

"Oh, yes, I know where you mean. You go through it on the way to Conistead, don't you? A few miles past Wellcote?" 

"That's the one." 

"So where's the ghost?" 

The Brigadier glanced at the Doctor, who was still pretending to ignore them. "There's a house called Woodford House on the outskirts of the village. Quite recently built, I believe. It is currently occupied by a Mr William Ramsey and his family. It seems that three days ago, Mrs Ramsey and her daughter left the house and went to stay with the local parson. They told him that their house was haunted. 

"According to Mrs Ramsey, there were various unearthly occurrences in different parts of the house." He glanced at his report. "There aren't any more details than that, I'm afraid. Anyway, the rector decided that he had better call upon Mr Ramsey and discuss the matter with him. He found that nobody answered his knocking." 

"Do you mean the house was empty?" 

"He said there was still smoke from one of the chimneys. He caused various enquiries to be made, but nothing of substance was discovered. In due course, two men from the local militia entered the house." 

"And did they, too, encounter ghosts?" the Doctor asked. 

"Apparently nothing to see. But both reported that the atmosphere of the place made them uneasy. They made a search of the house, and found no sign of Mr Ramsey." 

"Then what?" 

"According to this, the parson and the local militia colonel discussed the situation and decided to send to Bow Street for an experienced investigator. Mr Ford, the chief magistrate–" 

"Don't tell me," Jo broke in. "He took one look at their letter and sent it straight here." 

"Quite so. Well, Doctor?" 

The Doctor frowned. "Well, what?" 

"How do you propose to investigate this?" 

"What makes you think I will?" The Doctor gestured at his workbench. "There's quite enough that needs doing here. The TARDIS–" 

"The TARDIS will still be here tomorrow, Doctor." 

"That's rather the point," the Doctor grumbled. "And the next day, and the next week, and the next year, unless I can bypass the override on the dematerialisation circuit. And I won't be able to do that – I won't even be able to build the necessary tools to do it – if you keep distracting me with ridiculous stories about ghosts and superstitious villagers." 

"Oh, come on, Doctor," Jo said. "It's a lovely day. And the change of air will do us all good, I'm sure." 

"And give you the chance to impress a lot of people with your new dress?" The Doctor rubbed his neck. "Well, I suppose it can't hurt to take a closer look into things. I'll take Jo with me. If I need you to blow anything up I'll send for you." 

The Brigadier frowned. "Doctor, are you sure that's wise? We'll be several hours' march away." 

"Exactly. Far enough away that you can't cause any trouble with your cannons and your muskets while I'm trying to bring about a peaceful settlement. Come along, Jo." 

The Doctor rose to his feet and swept out. Jo gave the Brigadier an apologetic look, and followed suit. 

Left on his own, the Brigadier contemplated the fact that on many previous occasions, the Doctor had dismissed his men and their from consideration in similar terms. On a good number of those occasions, it had turned out that they weren't quite as unnecessary as the Doctor had thought. It might be as well to make a few preparations, just in case. 

"Benton!" he called. 

*

The day was bright and sunny, though a strong wind meant Jo was glad of the bonnet and cloak that the Doctor had insisted she wear. Fortunately, there was no sign of rain. In dry weather, riding with the Doctor in his gig could be an enjoyable pastime; in the wet, whenever possible, Jo preferred to retreat to the Brigadier's closed carriage. 

Ever since they'd passed the last settlement, Jo had been eagerly peering forward, expecting to see their destination around each bend. This time, she was rewarded by the sight of a handful of buildings, mostly brick, but with a few older thatched cottages among them. 

"This is Foxworth, isn't it?" she asked eagerly. 

The Doctor nodded. "It ought to be, judging by the map. Keep your eyes out for the church." 

"The church? Is that where we're going?" 

"Not exactly, but the rectory should be nearby." 

"Oh, of course. That's where Mrs Ramsey and her daughter are staying, isn't it? Are you going to ask them all sorts of questions?" 

"One or two, perhaps. And it would be polite to ask permission before entering the house, wouldn't it?" 

Jo smiled. "And if we don't get permission?" 

"Then I've got two alternatives. The sonic screwdriver, and you. You've brought your lockpicks, I presume?" 

"Of course." 

By now, the gig was passing between a row of buildings – mostly houses, but with a handful of shops – on the left, and what was presumably the village green on the right. A little further along, a stubby stone tower was visible above the rooftops, indicating the position of the church. The place seemed nearly deserted, with only a few red-coated militiamen and a handful of mostly elderly women strolling on the green or peering into shop windows. Of course, Jo reminded herself, it was harvest time. A lot of the able-bodied men and women would be out in the fields, getting the corn in. 

"I suppose you've come up with a clever explanation of why it isn't really ghosts at all," she said, with a smile. 

The Doctor nodded. "Several, as a matter of fact. But until we've got more evidence, there's no way to choose between them." 

"Several?" Jo furrowed her brow in thought. "I suppose it could be actual aliens, but you'd have to know what the people saw before you could tell what it was." She thought for some more. "What else could it be?" 

"There are several possibilities," the Doctor said. "For example, it could be–" He broke off, as the gig rattled up a short drive towards a large, if shabby, house. 

"Here we are," he said. "Whoa, Bessie." 

He pulled gently on the reins, and the horse came obediently to a halt. 

*

The front parlour of the Rectory was better appointed than Jo had been expecting, given the run-down appearance of the outside of the building. It was clear that while the incumbent might not care about external appearances, he paid close attention to matters of personal comfort. 

The parson in question, who rejoiced in the name of the Reverend Samuel Fairchild, joined them within minutes. He was a large, rubicund man, wearing the wig and bands that proclaimed him a clergyman. Jo quickly found herself thinking of him simply as 'the Rector', perhaps because his attitude, which verged upon the self-important, reminded her of the two Time Lords she was most familiar with. 

Once the Rector had been introduced, his two house guests were presented. Mrs Ramsey looked pale and careworn, her hands twitching even as she curtseyed and professed herself glad to meet the visitors. Her daughter Clarissa, perhaps a couple of years younger than Jo and a couple of years behind her in fashion, seemed determined to say as little as possible. 

The Doctor, who during the various introductions had left most of the talking to Jo and the Rector, then started taking more of an interest in proceedings. 

"Now," he began. "You and your daughter left Woodford House– when, exactly?" 

Though he had addressed his remarks to Mrs Ramsey, it was the Rector who answered for her: "Three days ago." 

"Is that right, Mrs Ramsey?" Receiving only a nod by way of confirmation, the Doctor continued. "Can you tell us what led you to take that decision?" 

"The night before, I saw–" Mrs Ramsey shook her head. "I cannot describe it." 

"Could you try?" 

"I could not see it plainly. Maybe it cannot be seen plainly." 

"You mean it was just something out of the corner of your eye?" Jo asked. 

Mrs Ramsey shook her head again. "It was obvious enough that something was there, but what the thing was I cannot tell you. It forced me to go to my bedchamber. I sat up all night in that room, waiting for the dawn, with the–" She searched for a suitable word. "Spirit, or ghost, or demon, what it was I cannot say, but it remained outside the door. The next morning, it departed. I found Clarissa, and brought her here." 

The Doctor turned to Clarissa. "Miss Ramsey, do you have anything to add to that?" 

"I have not, sir." She looked down, avoiding his eyes, and seemed to realise the inadequacy of her reply. "That is, I was asleep in bed, and heard nothing. The first I knew of any of this was in the morning." 

"So you haven't seen this thing at all?" Jo asked. 

"Oh, I have, but later. When Mother told me we were to leave, she sent me to find Father. But I could not find him anywhere upstairs, and when I went to his study, my path was blocked by–" She closed her eyes, as if trying to picture what she saw. "A disturbance in the air, that pushed me back. That is all I can call it." 

"Was there anyone else in the house?" the Doctor said. "I presume you have servants?" 

"I believe the housemaid had already left," the Rector said. 

The Doctor turned to him with an exasperated air. "My dear fellow, I appreciate the service you have done in giving these ladies shelter in their distress. But that doesn't mean that you have to answer all my questions for them. Surely you must see that their direct knowledge is far more useful than any hearsay you can give me?" 

The Rector swelled indignantly. "Sir, this is my house, and the ladies are under my protection. You would do well to remember that." 

"If you have any intention of helping these ladies," the Doctor retorted, "I suggest that you leave the conduct of this investigation to me. Now, Mrs Ramsey, what can you tell me about the servants?" 

"As the Rector said, Ellen had already left. I think she must have seen what we saw, though at the time none of us believed her stories of ghosts. The housekeeper and the other servants departed when we did. I gave them a week's wages – I could not afford more." 

"And did any of them see anything?" 

"I could not say. I only had thoughts for Mr Ramsey's safety, but none of them had the least idea what had happened to him." 

"When did you last see your husband?" the Doctor asked. 

"After dinner, that evening. He said he was going to his study." 

"And that would be normal for him?" 

"Oh, yes. He spends most of his time there." 

"And nobody has seen him since." 

"No." She stifled a sob. "Colonel Travers says his men searched the house, but found nobody, alive or– but if my husband is not in the house, where can he be?" 

"Sir," the Rector said, rising ponderously to his feet. "I believe that Mrs and Miss Ramsey now wish to retire." He glanced down at the huddled figure of Mrs Ramsey, who managed to nod. 

The Doctor looked, for a moment or two, as if he was going to argue, but thought better of it. Instead, he suffered himself and Jo to be led out of the parsonage, bade the Rector a formal farewell, assisted Jo into her seat in the gig, and took his place beside her. 

"Walk on, Bessie." The Doctor guided the gig out of the Rectory drive. "Do you have any thoughts on the matter, Jo?" 

"There's something I don't understand," Jo said. "Everyone seems to be sure that Mr Ramsey is still in the house. But if he is..." She paused, getting her thoughts in order. "Where is he getting his food? Surely someone would have to take it to him? But they said all the servants had gone." 

"Yes, I think a few enquiries in the village might be in order," the Doctor said. "But first, we'll take a look at the house." 

*

Woodford House was large, modern and, to all external appearances, completely unremarkable. The garden was tidy and well-kept, the windows unshuttered, and smoke was rising from a chimney at the back. The Doctor brought his gig to a halt outside the front door, climbed down, and helped Jo to do the same. While he was attending to Bessie, Jo paced nervously. She'd hoped that the Doctor, having heard the Ramsey' stories, would have come up with a solution there and then, explaining their visions as the appearance of some alien he recognised, or as the result of some arcane scientific phenomenon. But on their way here, he hadn't dropped so much as a hint. That meant either that he didn't know what was in there, or that he felt Jo was better off not knowing the truth. 

The Doctor's hand fell on her shoulder; she jumped, and looked at him. 

"Ready?" he asked. 

Jo nodded, and followed him to the front door. From his pocket the Doctor produced the key Mrs Ramsey had lent him, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. 

The entrance hall of Woodford House was considerably more grandiose than would have been necessary, given the size of the building. It was two floors high, with pillars at the four corners painted to look like marble. Between the pillars, arched alcoves had been painted onto the walls. 

"I wonder." The Doctor glanced around. "I'd say whoever built this had been to Blenheim Palace and decided he wanted one of his own – but he didn't have several hundred thousand pounds to spare." 

"You've been to Blenheim?" Jo asked. "Don't tell me, you knew the Duke of Marlborough, too." 

"Yes, but not at the same time. John didn't live long enough to see his palace completed, poor old chap. Spent the last few years of his life living on a building site. The first time I met him was at Elixheim, you know. Complicated business. Turned out that the Gaztaks were filching supplies from the–" 

The Doctor's anecdote was cut off by the distant sound of a crash from somewhere in the depths of the house. All Jo's worries, which she'd been managing to overlook, sprang back in full force. 

"Wait here, Jo." The Doctor was already hurrying in the direction of the sound, looking back over his shoulder at her as he spoke. "I'll find out what that was." 

He disappeared through an elaborate pair of double doors. Left to her own devices, Jo wandered around the hall, looking aimlessly at the few items of furniture and the painted decorations. There was nothing here that seemed out of place. Everything was exactly as it should be, save for a few days' dust on the flat surfaces. 

Somewhere upstairs, she heard a buzzing noise. It reminded her of a swarm of bees. 

"Doctor?" she called. 

There was no answer. 

Jo glanced around, wondering if she'd really heard anything or if she'd imagined it. Then the noise came again, almost directly overhead. She looked up, but saw only the decorated ceiling. 

"Doctor!" she called again, louder. 

Once more, there was no answer. Feeling alone and vulnerable, Jo picked up a stick she'd noticed in a stand by the front door. More of a cane to be flourished by a dandy than a prop for age, it made a poor weapon, but she felt more comfortable with something in her hand. Cautiously, she advanced to the foot of the stairs, and listened. She still couldn't hear anything of the Doctor, but she was sure that a soft humming sound was drifting down from above. 

Jo swallowed, and climbed the stairs, slowly and cautiously. The staircase turned twice, then emerged on a wide balcony that overlooked the hallway below. As the floor level of the balcony came into view, Jo paused, waiting for whatever was there to show itself. Nothing did, so she continued climbing, even more slowly than before, glancing to left and right as more of the balcony came into view. 

Before stepping onto the balcony proper, Jo stopped and listened, but heard nothing save her own heartbeat. She took a deep breath, and walked onto the balcony. To her left and her right, the balcony ended in grandiose doors, designed to give the impression that they led to apartments fit for a King. Ahead, a delicate wooden balustrade marked the edge of the balcony; through and over the banisters, Jo could see the door through which she and the Doctor had entered. 

Choosing a direction at random, she turned to her left and began to explore. As well as the huge door at the end of the balcony, there was a similarly oversized doorcase on the wall beside her. Experimentally, she twisted the handle, but the door didn't move. Either it was locked, or it was a dummy, there just to make the hall symmetrical. 

The door at the end of the balcony, though, did open when Jo tried it. Beyond it, a dimly-lit corridor presumably led to bedrooms, parlours and other regions of the house. Jo wondered whether to investigate further, and decided against it – at least, until she'd tried the doors at the far end of the balcony. She closed the door, which latched with a noticeable _click_ , and headed for the far end of the gallery. 

Before she got there, she froze at the harsh sound of buzzing behind her. She turned, slowly. 

Jo had wondered why Mrs Ramsey and her daughter had found the thing they'd seen so hard to describe. Now that she was face to face with – presumably – the same thing, she realised why. The creature, whatever it was, seemed to be permanently out of focus. She blinked, and screwed up her eyes, but it didn't improve matters in the slightest. She couldn't even make out the thing's overall shape. What was clear, though, was that it was between her and the stairs. 

She tried to back away, in the direction of one of the doors. But just looking at the unfocused shape in front of her made her dizzy. She held her free hand in front of her eyes. As she did so, she saw, or thought she saw, between two blinks of her eye, a dozen or so shapes, not resembling anything she'd seen on Earth before, fist-sized, each with a profusion of wings and limbs. Then they were gone again, leaving only the vision-filling haze. 

She realised that she was backing away, and the apparition was still advancing on her. 

"Stay back," she said, though it came out as more of a whisper. "Please." 

If the thing heard and understood her, it gave no sign, but continued to approach Jo. She took another step backward, and bumped into the wooden balustrade that ran along the edge of the balcony. There was nowhere left for her to go. 

"Keep back," she said, brandishing the stick. "Keep away from me!" 

The blur swooped on her. She reeled, as if from a blow, though nothing had touched her. Thrown off balance, she fell back against the wooden railing. It cracked under her weight, and with a scream she tumbled off the balcony toward the stone floor below. 


	2. Chapter 2

Relating her experiences later, Jo would say that as she fell from the balcony, she'd imagined her head being broken open like an egg. But in truth, all she was aware of was an incoherent blur as the room whirled around her, the breath being knocked out of her with a thump, and the dawning realisation that she was still alive, and lying mostly on something that was a good deal softer than the floor. 

"Jo," the Doctor's voice said. "Don't try to move. Can you hear me?" 

"Yes." Jo opened her eyes. She was, as she'd surmised, still in the entrance hall, at or near floor level. Most of her vision was blocked by the Doctor's mulberry-coloured cloak. She tried to work out what had happened. 

"Did you... Did you _catch_ me?" she asked. 

"Rather neatly," the Doctor replied. "Even if I do say so myself." 

"So if I'm down here, and I'm on top of you – you must only just have got here in time!" 

"In the very nick of time." The Doctor, apparently satisfied that Jo hadn't broken any bones, helped her to her feet. "I came through that door and there you were, doing a backflip over the balcony. I had to do a diving save – half a second later and I'd have been too late." 

Jo shivered. "I'd rather not think about that. Did you hurt yourself when you caught me?" 

"Only a bruised elbow, nothing to worry about." The Doctor rubbed his elbow thoughtfully. "Should sort itself out, given time. Now, perhaps you'd like to explain how you came to be falling off the balcony in the first place?" 

"I saw it," Jo said eagerly. "The thing that Mrs Ramsey and Clarissa saw. It was up there on the landing." 

Hastily, she related the tale. How she'd heard the buzzing noises, climbed the stairs, gone in search of the cause, and what she'd encountered. 

"What about you?" she asked. "Did you find out what made that noise?" 

"Someone had pushed a table over in the stillroom," the Doctor said. "A simple distraction, but enough to get one or both of us to investigate it. And since it happened as soon as we entered the house, that suggests that we're under observation. Now, let's take a look at that balcony." 

Keeping close together, the two once more ascended the stairs and explored the balcony, keeping well away from the gap in the balustrade through which Jo had been thrown. 

"I'd tried those two doors," Jo said. "Then I came to look at these two." 

"Did you try them as well?" 

"No, that was when I saw the whateveritwas." She opened the counterpart of the first door she'd tried, behind which was a parlour. "The funny thing is, I didn't hear any of the doors opening or closing before the buzzing started." 

"Yes, that is curious. It suggests that our visitor doesn't need doors to get around." The Doctor gestured to the open door. "While we're here, shall we explore?" 

Despite Jo's trepidation, the upper storey of the house yielded nothing, bar evidence of the occupants' hasty departure. A tour of the attic bedrooms was similarly unproductive. 

"There's still smoke coming out of that chimney," Jo said, looking out of one of the small, barred windows. 

The Doctor joined her. "Yes. It looks as if our visitors are keeping to the lower floors, at the back of the house. I think we should concentrate our search in that area." 

Jo nodded, and the two retraced their steps. Once they reached the ground floor, they headed for the service rooms. In this part of the house, there was no trace of the fine decorations and high ceilings in the rooms around the hall. It was plain that while the front of Woodford House was new, it had been built onto an older, humbler, building, perhaps a large farmhouse. 

A little way beyond the stillroom where the Doctor had been lured before, he and Jo came to a halt, at the entrance of a short, whitewashed, ill-lit passageway. At the far end, presumably, was a door or another room. But to Jo, the passage appeared merely as a haze, filled with that ominous, menacing, buzz. She tried to take a step forward, but her feet seemed to be rooted to the ground. By an effort of will, she managed to turn and look up at the Doctor. His eyes were closed and an expression of concentration was on his face. She wondered what, if anything, he was seeing. 

"Doctor?" she asked. "Are you all right?" 

"I think we had better make a tactical retreat," the Doctor replied. "We should move slowly. Keep hold of my arm." 

They backed away, until the buzzing and the haze had diminished and Jo felt able to walk unaided. 

"Now what?" she asked. 

"Now, we take our leave," the Doctor said. 

"You mean we're just going to go away?" 

"I didn't say that," the Doctor replied, with a smile. 

*

The garden steps weren't the best place for a temporary laboratory, but neither Jo nor the Doctor was in any mood to work in the house, under who knew what watchful eyes. Jo, perched on the top step, was measuring and cutting lengths of wire, which the Doctor was weaving into what appeared to be two mesh helmets. 

"So do you know what's going on in there?" Jo asked. 

"Broadly." The Doctor added another wire to his efforts. "From what we saw, I think the house must be infested with some kind of hive creature, with psionic abilities." 

"You mean like bees? Do they sting?" Jo felt her flesh creep at the thought of giant stinging insects you couldn't see properly. 

"My guess would be not. At least, not badly. If you can confuse and fuddle something's mind, why bother to land on them and try to sting them? It'd be safest for them to keep out of reach." 

"I suppose so." Jo concentrated on her wire-cutting for a bit. "But hang on. What about that table in the stillroom? That doesn't seem to fit in with swarms of insects flying about." 

"Yes. I don't like that. There's something about it that seems planned. Deliberate." 

"Do you think they're intelligent? Enough to try and split us up, and deal with us separately?" 

"Intelligent swarming insects aren't unheard of. Not here on Earth, of course, but elsewhere. Possibly the normal run of creatures, the drones or workers, aren't terribly bright, but there could be a queen somewhere running things." 

"At the other end of that passage?" Jo suggested. "I mean, if it was all blurry that means there would be a lot of the insects in there. Well, couldn't they be guarding something?" 

The Doctor nodded. "Something worries me, though. That corridor was very definitely marked as off-limits to us. But those fellows from the militia searched the whole building. Why weren't they stopped?" 

"Perhaps the men didn't get to that bit?" Jo suggested. "They could have missed it." 

She sounded neither convincing nor convinced. It wasn't as if any effort had been made to hide that part of the house behind sliding panels or concealed doors. 

"Anyway, here we are." The Doctor twisted the last wire into position, and held up the two objects he'd made. They looked something like wire cages and something like beekeepers' hats. "I'm afraid they're not very fashionable." 

He waited for Jo to remove her bonnet, and fastened one of the wire constructions about her head. A padded vial was attached to it, which hung around her neck. 

"It doesn't feel any different," she said. 

"No." The Doctor clipped the other cage around his own head. "We won't know if they work until we come to use them." 

Feeling slightly embarrassed to be walking about with the Doctor's contraption surrounding her head, Jo helped to return the tools and equipment to their box under the seat of the gig. Then, once the Doctor was satisfied that everything important was securely stowed, she followed him back to the house. Again, they passed through the entrance hall and made their way to the back of the building, until they stood at the end of the corridor they had previously been unable to enter. 

Though the buzzing was as loud as ever, there was now no hint of blurring in the scene that met Jo's eyes: the wire cage around her head had to be working as intended. The sentinels at the door were now clearly visible, though this wasn't, to Jo's way of thinking, an unalloyed good. Doubtless a trained biologist would have disagreed with her description of them as "giant insects", but as far as she was concerned the creatures crawling over the door and walls, or flitting around her head, definitely qualified. Each was four or five inches long, compound-eyed, many-limbed, with wings that reminded her more of bats than any insect she'd previously seen. Just in case they did sting, she tried to make herself as small and motionless as possible. 

Experimentally, the Doctor tried the door handle, and found it locked. From his pocket, he produced the sonic screwdriver, and aimed it at the gap between the door and the frame, adjacent to the lock. The screwdriver whirred, and the creatures on the door buzzed angrily in reply. From the far side of the door came a muffled _clink_ as the keep fell off the doorframe. The Doctor pushed the door open. 

The room beyond was long and low. It seemed that at one time it had been used for brewing or distilling; a long workbench, laden with earthenware vessels, ran the length of the room, and at the far end a heap of barrels rose as high as the tiny, cobwebbed window. Part of the workbench, it appeared, had recently been cleaned, and the vessels here were also clean and neatly laid out. On the opposite wall from the bench, a fire was burning in a large fireplace, heating a cauldron of liquid. 

Bent over the workbench was a tall, dark-haired man wearing a fashionable dark coat and breeches. Moving without haste, he straightened up and turned to face the intruders. His appearance was all too familiar to both of them: the dark eyes, the sardonic expression, the neatly-trimmed beard and moustache. 

"Why, Doctor," the Master said. "And Miss Grant. Do you know, I was almost beginning to miss you?" 

"I might have known," the Doctor said. "If I were to ask what you're doing here, would I get a sensible answer?" 

The Master smiled. "I am here by express permission of the owner of this house, Mr William Ramsey. A curious crystalline formation was discovered in his garden, and he sought expert advice. And since I am, without doubt, the greatest expert in this field, why should I not offer my services?" 

"I should prefer to hear Mr Ramsey's side of the story." 

"Sadly, you cannot." The Master shrugged apologetically. "I am afraid his circumstances are, shall we say, reduced?" 

"You mean you killed him," Jo said. 

"Of course." The Master gave her a half-bow. 

"And I bet you put that crystal thing in his garden in the first place. You just wanted somewhere to hide out while you do... whatever it is you're doing." 

"Now we come to it. I presume you two would like me to tell you in detail what actions I now propose to take, and what use I shall make of these helpful little creatures?" 

"If you did," the Doctor said drily, "it wouldn't be the first time." 

"Quite right, Doctor. But why make things easy for you?" 

"Usually, it's because you're so impressed with whatever half-baked scheme you've come up with that you can't help bragging about it." 

"An unworthy remark, Doctor. You know perfectly well that people who can properly appreciate my work are few and far between." 

Jo looked from one to the other. "Are you two just going to stand there all day throwing silly insults at each other?" 

"I believe the young lady has a point," the Master said. He slipped his left hand into his jacket pocket. "Let us proceed to business. The two of you are, after all, my prisoners." 

"That's a little overconfident, even for you," the Doctor said. "There are two of us here, and only one of you. And the building is–" 

"Surrounded," the Master interrupted. "An obvious bluff. And it should be obvious, even to you, that I am not as alone or harmless as I may appear." 

A momentary expression of concentration crossed his face. The familiar harsh buzzing filled the air, and, from a ventilator near the ceiling, the alien creatures poured into the room and began to circle Jo and the Doctor. 

"You realise, don't you, that those ridiculous birdcages you're wearing on your heads only provide partial protection from my Antropeans?" the Master said. "They have to have a hole in the bottom for your neck. And that means they cannot completely block attacks from below head height." 

Again, he concentrated. The flying creatures, still circling, began to fly lower and lower until they were at knee height. As they did so, they began to blur and shimmer, giving Jo the impression that a cloud of fog was rising around her. Mist seemed to be gathering at the corners of her vision. As if through the wrong end of a telescope, very clear and far away, she saw the Doctor, his face drawn and pale, his eyes half-closed. 

That was the last thing she saw before she lost consciousness and crumpled to the ground. 

*

The Doctor took a step towards Jo, but the psychic field around him thickened in that direction, and he staggered back. 

"Leave her, Doctor," the Master said. Keeping his left hand in his pocket, he held up a sleek device, obviously a weapon, with his right. "Otherwise, I shall shoot her now." 

If the Doctor hadn't needed all his concentration to stay upright, he might have risked trying to disarm the Master before he could fire. As it was, all he could do was mutter "You... you want her. What for?" 

"Now that, my dear Doctor, is no concern of yours. But I assure you, I shall take the best possible care of her." His eyes narrowed. "Now, leave." 

The swarm of creatures around the Doctor seemed to tighten its grip. Half-blinded by their attacks, hardly even able to see where he was going, he stumbled away. As he staggered unheeding through the deserted rooms and corridors of the house, the attack showed no signs of abating. If anything, it intensified. Either the Doctor's improvised shielding device had exhausted its reserves of energy, or more creatures were joining the attack. 

Using the last of his strength, the Doctor fumbled the door ahead of him open and took a few steps into the entrance hall. The front door of the house, on the other side of the hall, seemed light-years away. The room blurred and reeled about him. He took two more steps, then dropped to his knees, then fell forward onto the stone floor. 


	3. Chapter 3

A gunshot sounded, a cracking noise clearly audible through the menacing buzz of the swarm. The Doctor felt the pressure of the psychic attack lessen sharply, and looked up. Standing by the door was a familiar, red-coated figure, holding a smoking pistol. 

The Doctor sprang to his feet. "Brigadier!" 

"Doctor, what on Earth is going on here? And where–" 

The buzzing in the air intensified. It seemed that the swarm didn't approve of this new visitor any more than they cared for the Doctor. 

"Not now!" the Doctor said. He hurried to the front door, took the Brigadier by the arm, and pretty much dragged him out of the building, slamming the front door behind them. 

Outside, the peace of the countryside remained unbroken. The only change during the time that the Doctor had been in the house was the arrival of two new horses, standing peacefully beside Bessie, and another red-coated officer: Captain Yates. 

"Doctor," the latter said, bowing slightly. 

The Doctor frowned at them both. "And what brings you here? I distinctly remember saying that I didn't need you to interfere with my investigation." 

"And I don't need your permission to come or go, Doctor," the Brigadier retorted. "I am making my enquiries, as requested by Mr. Ford." 

"I suppose I should be grateful that you haven't brought a regiment of big-booted soldiers with you." The Doctor gave the Brigadier a long look. "You have, haven't you?" 

"Sergeant Benton will be arriving with a platoon in an hour or so." 

"Might I ask why?" 

"Better safe than sorry, Doctor. If they prove not to be necessary, the exercise of marching here and marching back will do the men good. Now, perhaps you'd like to tell me what you've discovered." He glanced around. "And where is Miss Grant?" 

*

When Jo came to, she was lying on a hard surface. Attempts to move her arms and legs quickly established that she had been tied down. Above her was a a ceiling, cobweb-hung and cracked. She tried to move her head, but that, too, appeared to have been restrained. By the look of things, she was still in the same room, perhaps tied to the workbench. The improvised wire cage she had been wearing around her head was gone. 

The Master's face appeared, looking down at her. 

"Good morning again, Miss Grant," he said. "I regret the inconvenience to which I have had to put you, but I'm sure you'll agree that it is all in a good cause." 

"You know perfectly well I won't." Jo tested her bonds. If she'd been conscious at the time they'd been tied, maybe she could have tensed her muscles enough that now they'd be loose. But she hadn't, and they were uncomfortably tight. The Master, of course, knew about her ability to escape from this sort of situation, and had doubtless allowed for it when tying the knots. 

"Dear me, such mistrust." The Master left her field of vision, heading in the direction she remembered the fireplace to be. Vague sounds could be heard, as of liquid being ladled – presumably out of the cauldron she'd seen earlier. The familiar buzzing of the insect creatures came to her ears, and the ceiling above her blurred as they whipped past. 

"Feeding time," the Master explained. "But don't worry. I shall deal with you momentarily." 

*

"So," the Brigadier said. "That building is infested by invisible alien insects, who have been brought to Earth by the Master. He killed the original owner, and now he has Miss Grant in there with him." 

The Doctor rubbed his neck. "That's a fairly accurate summary." 

"And what do you propose to do now?" 

"Rescue her, of course." 

"By your own account, you were nearly killed the last time you went in there. What makes you think you can do better now?" 

"This time, I know what I'm up against." The Doctor turned the wire cage over in his hands. "A few changes to the design of this, and I should be in a far better position to deal with the Antropeans." 

"I see." The Brigadier looked dubious. "Captain Yates, keep an eye on the Doctor. I'm going to scout around a little." 

*

The Master triumphantly held up something that looked like a giant, crystalline honeycomb. Inside each cell, vague shapes moved, their outlines impossible to make out. 

"As you have probably guessed," he said, "this is a crystal formation similar to the one the late Mr Ramsey found in his garden. The Antropeans create them to protect their eggs. In due course, the eggs hatch, as you would expect." 

Jo's eyes hadn't moved from the writhing shapes in the crystal. 

"These," the Master explained, sounding almost regretful, "are the juvenile form of the Antropeans. In plain language, grubs. I intend, while they are still at an early developmental stage, to attune them to the human brain. You will provide the brain in question. Oh, don't worry. I don't have to remove it from your body. That would defeat the point of the exercise." 

Jo opened her mouth, but her throat had gone so dry she couldn't speak. 

"You seem lost for words," the Master said. "Let me guess what you might be asking. What could I possibly gain by doing this?" He paused briefly, as if waiting for an answer. "Well, I'm sure you'll work it out for yourself. Particularly since you will have little else to do but think for the next few hours or days." 

He set the crystal down on the workbench, somewhere out of Jo's line of sight. Almost at once, the bench shook under an impact, and Jo heard something cracking. The Master reappeared. In one hand, he held a pair of tongs, at the far end of which a fat grub was wriggling. Unlike the adult insects, it didn't appear blurred in the slightest. Jo, looking at it, rather wished that it did. 

As the Master carefully placed the grub on her forehead, Jo screwed up her eyes and tried to ignore its twitching. A second quickly followed, and a third. 

"That will do for now," the Master said, still courteously. "I would advise you to keep your mouth shut. Otherwise one our friends might tumble in." 

Keeping her eyes shut, Jo clenched her fists. _I won't scream,_ she told herself. _I won't scream._

With a tickle of feet, one of the adult insects touched down on her cheek. More followed, scurrying to and fro, doubtless torn between their normal instincts to care for their young and whatever control the Master had over them. Something was crawling in her hair. Probably several somethings. Another of the creatures delicately probed her left ear. 

She did scream, then. It didn't help. 

*

The Brigadier, returning from his reconnaissance, nearly bumped into the Doctor and Captain Yates as they hurried towards the sound. 

"That was Jo!" the Doctor began. 

The Brigadier nodded. "I was close enough to tell which building she was in. I'm reasonably sure that it's the same one you encountered the Master in – the one with the smoking chimney." 

"Is that all you've got to say? He could be doing anything to her in there!" 

"I'm aware of that, Doctor." 

"Then let me try and rescue her." 

The Brigadier shook his head. "Out of the question." 

"You mean you're giving her up for dead?" 

"Doctor, think about this. Is that contraption you're tinkering with anything like ready?" 

The Doctor reluctantly shook his head. "No. I don't even know when it will be. With this primitive technology even the simplest task requires layer on layer of workarounds." 

"And without it, the chances that you will be able to save Miss Grant are remote?" 

"Yes." 

"Then, by your own reasoning, you'd do much better to keep working here than to go hurrying off after her." 

"Yes." The Doctor looked at him with an expression almost of defeat. "I can't save her. Not this time." 

"And you'll get on much faster if we aren't here to distract you." The Brigadier turned, and headed once more for the back of the house. Captain Yates! You're with me." 

*

Jo still didn't dare open her eyes. The three alien grubs and more adult insects than she could guess at were still crawling over her head and shoulders, with others making occasional visits to the rest of her. She could feel the grubs not only as slimy creatures wriggling across her face, but as dots of pain inside her head, sharp points in a dull, growing ache. 

The ropes holding her down were as unyielding as ever. Once or twice, when there hadn't been any wandering insects near her mouth, she'd tried to speak, but if the Master was still there he was ignoring her. As he'd said, all she could do was think; and despite her brain feeling as if it was slowly being squeezed in a vice, she had managed to reach some unpleasant conclusions. The Master had worked out a way of controlling these creatures. Now he wanted to train them to do... something... to people. Make them his slaves, probably, or just kill them. And he was letting them practise those abilities on her. 

*

Though from the front Woodford House was regular, symmetrical, modern and tidy, at the back it was a chaotic tangle of buildings, of different ages and styles, surrounding a courtyard. Running along one side of the yard was the building from which Jo's scream had been heard: a long, low structure, with substantial-looking walls. A thin column of smoke rose from the chimney, which looked like a later addition to the structure. 

Another building, a little way away, had turned out to be the stable. In this, Yates had discovered a length of rope and a ladder. The ladder was now leaning against the side of the low building, where the line of the roof was broken by a wooden grille, about a foot square, perhaps a ventilator of some kind. 

Moving as silently as he could, Captain Yates climbed the ladder until he could reach the roof. He lifted the slats of wood out of the ventilator one by one and handed them down to the Brigadier, who, equally cautiously, stacked them a little way away. Once the ventilator was clear, Yates leaned into the narrow space and tipped the contents of his powder horn onto the ceiling laths. He did likewise with the Brigadier's, using some of the powder to lay a fuse, and the last of it to prime the lock of his pistol. He glanced down at the Brigadier, and held the pistol up. 

The Brigadier nodded, and walked cautiously to the end of the building, the only wall with a window. Once there, he picked up a heavy stone, looked back at Yates, and nodded. 

"Now!" he called, and heaved the stone through the window. At the same moment, Yates, holding the lock of his gun against the powder trail, pulled the trigger. The powder ignited, and he scrambled down the ladder. Before he reached the ground, the improvised bomb detonated. Tongues of fire shot into the air, followed by clouds of dust and smoke. Tiles slid from the roof, shattering as they hit the ground. 

No sooner had Yates reached the ground than the Brigadier was with him, the rope tied round his waist, pistol in one hand. He climbed the ladder, with Yates in pursuit, feeling his way through the swirling dust cloud. To left and right, flames were licking at the newly-exposed rafters, and straight ahead a ragged hole had been blown through the ceiling into the room below. The Brigadier untied the rope, threw the free end through the hole, slid down it, and jumped to one side to give Captain Yates room to descend. 

The room was still hard to make out, but more was obscuring it than mere dust and smoke. The insects were furiously zooming this way and that, each appearing as a blurred patch in the already murky atmosphere. 

A darker shape was briefly visible, facing him. The Brigadier fired his pistol at it, flung the gun aside, and drew his sword. There was a flash of light as the Master tried to return fire, but his aim, too, seemed to have been spoiled by the dust. The Brigadier, sword before him, advanced cautiously. 

Captain Yates reached the bottom of the rope, and hastily checked that nothing was attempting to attack them in the rear. There seemed to be no enemy in sight, but the motionless figure tied to the table caught his attention at once. When he tried to look at her face all he could see was a haze, but he recognised her clothes instantly. 

"Jo!" he said, taking her by the arm. "Jo, can you hear me?" 

"Captain?" Jo asked. To her, the various crashes and explosions had been no more than background noise, something far away and unimportant compared to the relentless, hammering pain in her head. She tried to speak while keeping her mouth nearly closed, just in case one of the creatures should tumble in. "I'm tied up. Hands and feet. And something round my head." 

"Yes, I can see. Don't worry, Jo. I'll get you out of there." 

After a few attempts to untie the knots restraining Jo's wrists, Yates drew his sabre and cut through the ropes. The moment her hands were free, Jo pulled the three grubs off her head, one by one, and threw them as far away as she could. The other insects, seemingly spooked by the movement of her hand, began to take their leave. She opened her eyes, which felt unpleasantly sticky, to see Yates bending over her, presumably releasing her head from whatever was holding it. 

"The Doctor?" she asked. 

"He's outside." The pressure on her head lessened. "Don't worry, he's–" 

"Behind you!" Jo shouted, as a familar black-clad figure loomed behind Captain Yates, sword in hand. Yates didn't need telling again; he spun round, blocking the Master's killing stroke with his own sabre. As the swords clashed, Jo managed to sit up. The room spun about her, and there was a ringing in her ears. Her face and scalp felt swollen and painful, her mind punch-drunk. Black blobs were whizzing about her head, but whether she was imagining them or whether they were more of the alien insects, she could not say. 

She bent forward and began, with clumsy fingers, to untie her feet. 

"Sir!" Yates shouted, narrowly dodging a vicious slash from the Master's sabre. Even in the best of circumstances, he'd have been hard put to match the Master's skill, and these certainly weren't the best of circumstances. The insects, just as in the Doctor's account, were closing around him, making it almost impossible even to see the Master, much less fight him. 

Again, the Master's sword lashed out. Yates tried to parry, but his blade was in completely the wrong place. There was no way he could block in time. Then, with a crash of steel, the Brigadier was there, knocking the blow aside, driving the Master back. 

It took Jo a lot longer than she'd have liked to untie her feet and climb off the table in one piece. She looked for a way out of the room. The Master's battle with the Brigadier and Captain Yates was going on between her and the door; it would be madness to go anywhere near them. She could easily reach the rope, which was hanging down from the hole in the ceiling near her, but in her current state she couldn't reliably catch hold of it, let alone climb it. 

She stumbled forward, tripped over something, fell forward, clutched at the workbench for support, and ended up almost doubled over, her nose inches from the bench. As she recovered her balance, she realised she was looking at a box, perhaps six inches long, its sides made of mesh, lying in a cleared space on the bench. Something inside was gently glowing. It didn't look like the work of any Earthly craftsman; it was more likely to be something to do with the Master. 

With exaggerated care, Jo peered into the box. For a few moments, she couldn't make sense of what she saw. Then, with a shock, she realised she was looking at one of the insects. This was larger than any she'd previously seen, and dark red rather than black. The glow was coming from tiny, flickering lights on the inner surfaces of the box, flickering in a pattern that seemed almost hypnotic. In fact, given that this box was in the Master's secret workshop, it probably was hypnotic. 

_Do these things have a queen?_ Jo wondered. _Because that looks awfully like one._

Exactly why she did what she next did, Jo wasn't sure. Maybe it was an aftereffect of the pounding her psyche had taken from the swarm. Possibly she guessed that the Master needed this creature for his plan. Or perhaps she just didn't like seeing anything, even a hideous alien giant insect, confined in such a small space. 

She found the catch, and opened the box. 

The buzz of the swarm deepened by several octaves. Jo felt as if she was standing in the middle of a whirlwind, as the insects that had been circling her or distracting the Brigadier and Captain Yates flocked to their queen. For perhaps half a minute, the swarm swirled around her, cutting her off from everyone in the room. In the distance, the Master's voice shouted "No!" Then the swarm began to rise, disappearing through the hole in the ceiling and into the open air. 

With no insects to tip the battle in his favour, the Master backed away as the Brigadier and Yates advanced on him. Seeing that the game was up, he dropped his sword on the floor. 

"I believe the expression is 'It's a fair cop,'" he said. "Doubtless the Doctor will want to see me. Don't worry, Brigadier. I shall come quietly." 

The Brigadier glanced briefly at the workbench, noting the restraints in which Jo had been held. Then he looked at Jo herself, her face puffy and red, leaning on the bench for support. 

"Yes," he said. For a moment, he raised his sword, as if to strike the Master, but thought better of it. "I shall see that you do." 


	4. Chapter 4

By the time the Brigadier, Captain Yates, the Master and Jo had made their way to the front of the house and emerged onto the drive, they found that the Doctor had company. A small crowd of local people had gathered, seemingly brought here by the column of black smoke rising from the rear of the house. Red-coated soldiers – not UNIT troops, but local militia – were trying, with no success, to persuade the onlookers to move away. And at the head of the crowd, seemingly considering himself the local arbiter of matters temporal as well as spiritual, was the Reverend Samuel Fairchild. 

"And I ask you this, sir," he was saying to a fuming Doctor. "What have you and your associates achieved, since your help and advice were sought? Why, only to set fire to my parishoners' property, and prevent any steps being taken to save the building!" 

"As I have told you at least half a dozen times," the Doctor replied, "it would be far too dangerous. In that building is one of the most desperate criminals you could hope to–" 

Hearing the sound of approaching footsteps, he turned. 

"Jo!" His eyes widened at her appearance. "Jo, what did he do to you?" 

"There's nothing the matter with her," the Master said disdainfully. 

The Doctor, ignoring him, picked Jo up, carried her across to his gig, and laid her across the seat. The Reverend Fairchild, looking positively apoplectic at having been thus dismissed from consideration, addressed himself to the Brigadier. 

"Sir," he began. "Your... colleague told me that you were pursuing a dangerous criminal. Is this the man?" 

"He is," the Brigadier replied, briefly. 

"Then now you have him, you can no longer object to our extinguishing the fire you have so wantonly started." He turned to his parishoners. "You there, Robin Carter, Wilfred Smith, Joseph Johnson. Stop gawping and make a search of the outbuildings for anything that will serve as a bucket. And is there a well or a pump close to the fire?" 

One of the onlookers, a young woman in a plain dress, raised her hand. "In the yard at the back, sir." 

"Splendid. Let us be about our business, then." 

The Brigadier nodded to the militiamen, who stood back, letting the Rector and the villagers through. The Doctor paid no attention to any of them; he was occupied bending over Jo, listening to her hasty account of what had happened to her. 

"And how do you feel now?" the Doctor asked her. 

"Terrible," Jo said, trying to smile. "All sore and itchy." 

"Yes." The Doctor looked closely at her forehead. "I think it's a reaction to prolonged contact with those insects. Probably best if you were to bathe your head in cold water, just in case there's a chemical residue. Why don't I ask that pompous nuisance of a clergyman to take you back to his vicarage and let you get sorted out?" 

"I won't hear of any such thing," Jo said firmly. "I'm staying here. I'll just have to put up with it." She fidgeted, trying not to touch her face, and looked about for a diversion. "Actually, didn't the Rector say something about a pump?" 

"He did." 

"There you are, then. I'll go and stick my head under it. See you later." 

She hurried away, in the direction that the Rector and the villagers had taken. The Doctor looked around, deigning to notice the Master for the first time. 

"My congratulations, Doctor," the latter said. He appeared quite unruffled by the fact that he was now under the watchful eyes of Captain Yates and several of the militamen. 

The Doctor folded his arms. "All right, out with it." 

"Out with what?" 

"I know that expression. There's something we've overlooked, or so you think. Some way you can still carry out your plan." 

"Perish the thought, Doctor." 

"Then if you don't have anything more to tell me, I suppose I'd better leave you to the mercy of the local magistrates. You realise they'll almost certainly hang you?" 

"The thought had crossed my mind." The Master cleared his throat. "I would merely remark that Miss Grant has helpfully released a full swarm of Antropeans on this planet. I daresay they will find Earth vegetation adequately nutritious. And now they have their queen, they will be able to breed. In a few months, they should have stripped the planet bare, and your human friends will die of starvation. Perhaps they'll turn to cannibalism, before the end." 

"Then we'd better work out a way of recapturing them." 

The Master raised an eyebrow. "'We'?" 

"It's in your interest as much as mine. If we don't, and the planet starves, you'll starve just as surely as everyone else." 

"I think, Doctor, you have been taking my assistance too much for granted. This time, I categorically refuse to help you." 

"So be it. Make sure he doesn't try anything, Captain." The Doctor turned and walked away. 

When, some minutes later, Jo reappeared, with tangled, dripping hair and a noticeably less swollen face, she found the Doctor once more on the garden steps, frowning at a tangle of wires and lumps of crystal. 

"Hello," she said. Receiving no answer, she sat down beside him. "I had to wait for ages before I could get near the pump. They were all busy filling buckets to throw at the fire – you know, where the Brigadier and Captain Yates blew the roof off. I think they've got it under control by now." She seemed to realise that the Doctor wasn't in the mood for chat. "What's wrong?" 

"That swarm you released is still out there," the Doctor said. "We need to find some way of recapturing them before they start breeding. And the primitive technology of this planet–" he flung down a pair of pliers in frustration "–simply isn't up to the job." 

"Oh. Does that mean you won't be able to stop them?" 

"Not in time. Unless – The Master's lab. He had some way of controlling those creatures. You say the fire's been put out?" 

"Maybe." Jo looked dubious. 

"Then let's see if we can salvage anything." 

Shortly afterwards, the Doctor and Jo were in the burned-out shell of the room where Jo had been imprisoned. The floor was covered with water, cinders, and rubble. Most of the roof had collapsed, leaving the room open to the sky. 

"Doesn't look hopeful," the Doctor said. "Whereabouts did you say you dropped that box?" 

Hoisting up her skirts, Jo picked her way through the mess. "Somewhere about here," she said. "Sorry, I can't point. I haven't got any spare hands." 

The Doctor joined her, picked up a lump of timber, and poked around in the rubble. There was no sign of the box; probably it had been smashed into a thousand pieces by the collapse of the ceiling. 

"Sorry," Jo said, after it became obvious they weren't going to find anything. 

"It isn't your fault," the Doctor said, making his way back to the doorway. 

"Well, it sort of is," Jo pointed out, as she followed him. "After all, I let the queen out, didn't I? Oh." 

Holding her skirts with one hand, she bent down and scooped up something small. 

"What have you got there?" the Doctor said. 

"One of those grubs." Jo held it up; it was moving feebly in her hand. "Poor thing. I couldn't just leave it." 

"Well done, Jo." The Doctor patted her on the shoulder. 

Jo brightened up at once. "Do you mean you can use it to stop the swarm?" 

"Not on its own." 

"But if there isn't anything here that will help–" Jo asked, trailing off as the Doctor set out for the front door. 

"There isn't," the Doctor said. "But I know where there is." 

"Where?" Jo fell silent, trying to think. "Oh, of course. I'm so stupid. If the Master was using that box to control the queen, he must have had something to control the box." 

"Top of the class, Jo. You remember he put his left hand in his pocket whenever he wanted the insects to do anything?" 

The Doctor swept out of the house, and came to a halt. Captain Yates was lying on the drive, bleeding from a scalp wound. A group of militiamen appeared to be struggling amongst themselves, while the Brigadier attempted to restore order. Of the Master there was no sign. 

"Jo, look after Mike," the Doctor said briefly, and hurried across to where the Brigadier was. "What happened?" 

"It seems the two men guarding him were under his control," the Brigadier said. He indicated the scrum of militiamen: looking more closely, the Doctor saw that they were trying to disarm and restrain two of their number. "They suddenly turned on Captain Yates, and then attacked their own men. In the confusion the Master escaped." 

"Of course." The Doctor shook his head. "The two militiamen who investigated the house and said they found nothing. He must have hypnotised them then. Which way did he go?" 

"He stole Captain Yates's horse. Out onto the road, and turned right." 

"He'll be making for his TARDIS." The Doctor glanced at his wristwatch. "Brigadier, can I borrow Artemis? I haven't the time to saddle Bessie." 

"If you think it necessary," the Brigadier said, sounding resigned. 

"Necessary? Brigadier, you have no idea how necessary it is!" 

The Doctor swung himself up into the saddle, and urged the Brigadier's horse out of the drive, heading in the direction that the Master had taken. He rode quickly, but not with desperate haste. The Master probably wouldn't have wanted to draw attention to himself once he was away from Woodford House, and it was quite possible that he would double back or take a side turning. It wouldn't do to be hasty and miss vital information. 

After five minutes or so, the Doctor rounded a bend in the road, and saw his quarry. As he'd suspected, the Master wasn't riding particularly fast, and was being careful not to draw attention to himself. That changed, though, the moment that he saw the Doctor riding towards him. One hasty glance was enough to confirm the identity of his pursuer; then he bent low over his stolen horse, spurring it on. 

The Doctor did likewise, urging Artemis to give him her best speed. Among his other merits, it seemed that the Brigadier was a good judge of horseflesh, for Artemis definitely had the edge in speed. As they galloped through a hamlet of half-a-dozen buildings and an inn, the Doctor had halved the distance between himself and the Master. 

Beyond the hamlet, the road curved sharply to the right, but the Master continued straight on. A hedge bordered the road here; in turn, the two horses cleared it, and continued across country, indiscriminately trampling stubble, ripe wheat and clover, jumping over hedgerows, ditches and fences, and on one occasion sending a group of labourers running for cover. In this terrain, the Doctor could keep up with his rival Time Lord, but not close the gap. 

Several fields later, they were weaving between haystacks when the Master suddenly pulled his horse up and sprang nimbly to the ground. He drew his laser pistol from his pocket, aiming it at the Doctor's head; but the Doctor was already on him, knocking the weapon out of his hand with his left boot as he passed. Bringing Artemis to a no less abrupt halt, the Doctor dismounted in turn. The Master was searching on the ground for his pistol, but as the Doctor approached, he rose to his feet and calmly watched his foe approach. 

"Well, Doctor," he said. "What can I do for you now?" 

"That gadget you used to control the insects," the Doctor said. "Hand it over." 

"And if I do, you will allow me to leave unmolested?" 

The Doctor shook his head. "I'm not prepared to make a bargain with you. Quite apart from anything else, you wouldn't keep your word. You never do." 

"How untrusting of you, Doctor." In the distance, more hoofbeats could be heard, but the two Time Lords kept their attention focused entirely on each other. "What, then, do you propose?" 

"You can't escape, you know. Hand over that box, and I shall try to persuade the authorities to be lenient." 

"And if I don't, there won't be any authorities, will there?" 

"They'll last long enough to have you shot by a firing squad. As many times as necessary." 

"Well, then, when you put it like that–" The Master pulled a small box from his pocket, and hurled it into the air. The Doctor dashed after it, trying to catch it before it hit the stony ground and was shattered. With the aid of a daring leap, he secured it, and landed with no more than a slight stagger. He turned, and was just in time to see the Master disappearing into a nearby haystack, in the side of which a door had opened. By the time the Doctor had taken half a dozen steps in that direction, the door had closed, and the entire haystack had vanished with a muted groaning sound. 

"Doctor?" 

The Doctor turned, to see the Brigadier walking across the field, leading an unfamiliar horse. 

"I'm afraid he got away," the Doctor said. "But I did get the consolation prize." He held up the control box. 

"Really, Doctor. That thing is worth chasing the Master up hill and down dale for? And then letting him slip through your fingers?" 

"Lethbridge-Stewart, without this it is highly likely that by this time next year, everybody on this planet would have starved to death. Now, I need to get back to the house and put this to use. Where did you get the horse, by the way?" 

"It belongs to Colonel Travers," the Brigadier explained. 

"The militia fellow?" 

"Exactly. He turned up shortly after you'd gone. I secured the loan of his horse, and left him to sort out his men." 

*

By the time the Doctor and the Brigadier had arrived back at Woodford House, leading the third horse on a loose rein, there was a noticeable increase in the number of soldiers present. 

"Looks as if Benton and his men are here," the Brigadier said, as he dismounted and tied up his recovered horse. "Is there anything you need them to do?" 

"Let me see." The Doctor paused briefly, considering. "I'll definitely need vinegar. And wolfsbane. And lead. And toadstools, the red sort with white spots. And a lot of fabric, preferably cotton. And–" 

"Then I suggest you make a list, Doctor," the Brigadier interrupted. "Ah, Miss Grant. What news of Captain Yates?" 

"He's feeling a lot better," Jo said. "He's such a tease, you know. When I was bending over him, my hair was still dripping, and now he's telling everyone he was cured by the touch of my tears. Did you get what you needed?" 

"Here's what he was using," the Doctor said. "Or at least, it was in his pocket. I daresay it'll have suitable components. And I got his laser pistol as well. Broken, but I should be able to cannibalise it." 

"I suppose it's too much to ask that you'd repair it?" the Brigadier said. "Given the situations we have to deal with, something like that could be a useful weapon." 

"You know that's out of the question." The Doctor turned to Jo. "Have you still got that grub?" 

"I think it's died," Jo said. She produced the creature, and held it up. "Look." 

The Doctor took the grub, and peered at it with a magnifying glass. "Should still be usable," he said. 

"What are you going to do with it?" She smiled. "I'm sure it'll be frightfully clever." 

"You remember when the Master put the grubs on your head, and straight away a lot of the adult insects showed up?" 

Jo grimaced. "I'm not sure I'll ever forget it." 

"Well, that's the reaction I want to provoke. Make them all come running to see what the trouble is." 

"And then what?" 

"One thing at a time, Jo. Now, have you got a pencil and paper? I need to make a shopping list for Sergeant Benton and his men." 

While the Doctor, with Jo's assistance, began to dismantle his half-built device, the UNIT men were sent in search of the materials he needed. One party searched the house, returning with bedsheets, various jars from the kitchen, and a card table. Others searched the outbuildings and the woodland, while another party were sent to buy necessary supplies in the village. 

After an hour or so, the Doctor's machine was complete, an ungainly web of wires and pipes that had completely engulfed the table on which it had been built. More wires ran from the table to a number of earthenware jars. On one side of the machine, a tangle of fabric, originally several bedsheets from the house, trailed across the drive. Here and there wire hoops were visible, to which the fabric had been hastily attached. 

Acting on the Doctor's instructions, the UNIT men picked up the wire hoops and stood in line. As they moved to their positions, the fabric between them took the shape of a cone, the narrow end disappearing into the Doctor's machine, the broad end pointing skyward. 

"Now," the Doctor said. "Everybody stand still, and keep calm." 

He pressed two wires together. Some of the scavenged parts of the device began to glow, and the liquid in the jars began to bubble, but there was no immediate effect. 

"Doctor," the Brigadier said, after several minutes had passed. "How long is this supposed to take?" 

"If I knew, I'd tell you," the Doctor replied crossly. "It depends how far away the swarm is." 

"We could send for more men." 

"Do you really think your men would be able to hit insects they couldn't even see properly with those ridiculous muskets? Now, unless you've got anything useful to say–" 

Jo timidly put up her hand. "Doctor, I'm sure I can hear something." 

In moments, there was no doubt of it. The harsh buzz of the swarm was approaching, increasing in menace every second. 

"Hold that up!" the Doctor said, addressing the soldiers holding the wide end of the fabric cone. "And close your eyes." 

Taking one last look, Jo saw the blurred patch dropping out of the sky, apparently aimed right for her. She closed her own eyes tightly, and hoped the Doctor's plan would work. While she'd found it in her to pity the single grub she'd found, she couldn't think of the swarm in terms other than horror. 

The buzz rose to a crescendo. Moving almost as a solid mass, the swarm shot between the humans and into the mouth of the fabric cone, desperate to reach the source of the Doctor's faked signal. The soldiers holding the fabric staggered slightly at the weight and the insects' psychic interference, but kept their balance. 

"Now!" The Doctor waved to Benton, who pulled the cord he was holding. The mouth of the cone closed, trapping the swarm. The fabric bulged and billowed as the insects struggled to escape, and to the swarm's buzz was added the sound of mandibles working against cotton. 

"Put the bag down and stand away," the Doctor called. 

The soldiers cautiously lowered the fabric tube to the ground. The moment they were clear, the Doctor picked up a jug of yellow-green liquid, and threw it over the bag. The buzzing began to diminish, as did the movement of the fabric, and the blurred cloud that hung around it. Another jug, poured more slowly and carefully, completed the process. Within minutes, the bag lay, silent and motionless, surrounded by a dark stain on the gravel of the drive. 

"Are they dead?" Jo asked. 

"Yes." The Doctor started to dismantle his device. 

"It's a pity. They didn't mean any harm." 

"But if they'd been left to their own devices, they would have caused a great deal." 

Jo nodded. "I know. I wouldn't want them anywhere near me again." 

*

It came as no surprise to the Brigadier when, as soon as the Doctor had finished taking his latest preposterous contraption to bits, he harnessed up Bessie, climbed into his gig, and helped Jo up alongside him. Before he could actually take his leave, though, the Brigadier walked over to the gig. 

"Leaving us, Doctor?" he asked. 

"You seem to have matters well in hand," the Doctor said. "I don't think there's anything else you need me for." He glanced at Jo, who was tying the ribbons of her bonnet. "And Jo's had quite enough excitement for one day." 

"I thought so," the Brigadier said. "Then you're leaving it to me to tell Mrs Ramsey and her daughter that Mr Ramsey has been murdered, that their house nearly burned down, and that the man responsible got away scot free?" 

"I'm sure you'll handle the matter with your usual facility." 

"I've had enough practice. Any suggestions for what to do with those things?" The Brigadier indicated the yards-long fabric tube still lying on the drive. 

"I suggest you wait until that lot have dried out a bit, and then burn them. And try not to touch the creatures or the bag more than you can help. The poison I made was meant for them, but I don't think it'll do humans much good, either." 

The Brigadier nodded. "Then good day, Doctor, Miss Grant. No doubt I'll see you back at Headquarters tomorrow." 

"No doubt. Maybe tomorrow I'll actually be able to do some work on the TARDIS instead of having to deal with the Master's little games and whatever distractions you can come up with. Get up there, Bessie." 

The Brigadier watched as the bright yellow gig rattled out of the drive and set out for London. 

"Maybe, Doctor," he said to himself. "But I doubt it." 


End file.
